Remember to Breathe
by iknowthewabbit
Summary: An unlikely visitor inadvertently brings together an unlikely duo...
1. Prologue

AUTHOR'S NOTE – This story, though written well back on the old PA board, has been revised. I'm usually not good on updating, which is why I was so determined to finish the full bulk of this story before posting any of it to make sure it got completed. I changed mistakes I'd made before, and also added quite a few scenes. I've changed plots in the story, twitched them a bit, and added more to scenes I'd already created.  
  
If you remember the basis of the story, it's exactly the same. I've made it more in tune with Liz and Michael though, so this story better suits their characters. I've currently got up to 15 chapters, and I hope to wrap up the story just around 20. I'll add a chapter every week, and hopefully I'll have the story completed before I even finish posting the parts I've already written.  
  
I hope all old and new that read this story enjoy it, because it certainly was one of the better of my stories. And now, Remember to Breathe...  
  
Remember to Breathe  
  
Author – Rae (iknowthewabbit@yahoo.com) Disclaimer - As per usual I must state I own nothing of the plots of Roswell; I am merely revising them to something better. Shucks! Rating – PG-13. Oops. Summary – An unlikely force turns two people to each other.  
  
~*~  
  
Prologue  
  
~*~  
  
Sometimes I have to remember to breathe.  
  
It's a very stupefying process. First you take that deep breath, letting the oxygen filter into your body to rise and course through your lungs. You open your mouth and let out that settling breath.  
  
Never have I had such trouble remembering to breathe. It's as if all of my senses and thoughts are thrown out the window indefinitely, right along with that one thing that keeps me breathing—sanity. I lost all traces of my sanity when I fell in love, which coincidentally is when I stopped remembering how to breathe.  
  
Breathing is like first nature; something you never forget how to perform. It's common sense to breathe, but all semblances of those both have left my mind like a memory I can't recall. A dream lost once woken. A necessity forgotten when you've become insane.  
  
I've always been cautious, and thought things out. I've been responsible, hardworking, and trying my best to appear strong. Yet it seems that all I have to do is see a glimpse of his face, or his rumpled dark blonde hair, or that twinkle in his eye that seems to spark upon my gaze—all this intensity leaves me weak. Weak, because his amber eyes burn something in me and I feel lost in every sense that has become 'him.' He has become my first nature, and my breath will finally give in and falter.  
  
It tapers off slowly, like a ghost in mourning, until eventually I no longer let out any resemblance of a breath—yet my mind is racing with an unknown urgency to do something that I've suddenly forgotten as necessary. His lips mingling with mine; that is necessary. His strong arms, around me, that's necessary. His eyes, looking at me with a fierceness I've never felt before; that's necessary.  
  
But that one seemingly meaningless moment, as if prolonged with no reference of time, is brought back full force in a matter of seconds—his eyes leaving the afterlife of mine. Somehow, dazed, I'll have to remember to take that deep breath, letting it course through my body, and then let it leave my mouth with a passion never tapped.  
  
I'm Liz Parker, and sometimes I have to remember to breathe. Is this scientifically relevant? I have to wonder if the chemicals residing in my body—somehow changed from a day one year ago—is fighting the attraction to an unlikely person—it's denial so fierce my brain forgets to push me to breathe.  
  
I've always figured out the answer to a problem. State the problem. Gather information. Hypothesize. Experiment, until you've found a supposed solution. Record and analyze your data. Form the conclusion.  
  
The scientific method, one I use often. Everyday decisions, important labs, jumbled thoughts...the only solution I can find is to keep away from those eyes, because if one day they happen to fall on me and stay all sanity I call home will forget to remind me of the one thing I've begun to lose functioning of.  
  
Breathing. 


	2. Chapter One

~*~  
  
Chapter One  
  
~*~  
  
You know how people say things can happen in an instant? So beyond your grasp of time that you can't change it's course? I never thought that to be true till now. My senses have always been alert—taut. There's always a danger lurking out there that has crept behind me quietly, as if mocking me by breathing down my back with stealth. Sometimes I turn, unexpected, and find nothing there.  
  
I'd always been alert, and just when that danger struck I found myself surprised. I wasn't alert when—hell—that lame ass excuse for a second in command pushed me down to face the mouth of a sputtering truck. Rath. Always spouting about how he should have been King. He'd lost his second title the day we crawled out of the pods and into a sewer with lack of food—obviously we weren't that important if our fucking elders left us for dead. It would be a year before I found out our history, and that we were in fact, rejects. A freak accident that was fixed with another set of pods.  
  
Since our elders, as fucked up as they were, created us, Lonnie and Rath longed to be reinstated to their Royal titles. I wouldn't let it happen, though. I wouldn't let them prove how worthy they could be. I never wanted the damn title—I didn't want to be nobody's bitch and I wasn't about to succumb to a weird past that would eventually come back to bite me in the ass—probably leaving me for dead.  
  
That damn truck hit me but my awareness seemed to have gained on me as I rolled under the truck to the other side of the alley. I moved my hand over my body, healing myself quickly, and then shot my hand out to protect myself. Dumb fucks. Didn't even wait to see if I was dead. They just assumed I was, and left me for a supposed death I wasn't ready to give into.  
  
So I moved on, bitter because even though I knew Lonnie and Rath were out to get me I was sure I had Ava on my side. Ava. She was quiet, kept to herself, yet pretty. She wasn't up to my standards though, if you catch what I'm saying. I knew she loved me, wanted me to love her too, but I couldn't bring myself to get the chance to really know what made her tick. I was just too focused on becoming my own person. Good thing I'd done that, cause the bitch had two-timed me for some slime ass idiots that were going to end up getting killed before they ever got to Antar.  
  
I guess they're right when they say, 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.' And in this case, I was Rath and Lonnie's' enemies. Rath's pretty unfortunate though, because if he'd stop ogling over Lonnie's tits for two minutes he might realize her thirst to get on Antar. One that will ultimately bring him to his death, because he's blinded by a lust that I wouldn't think would happen in my shittiest dreams. I never had much to look for in life, but now I do. I figure the only way I'll get my freedom out of this poor excuse for a soap opera is take out my enemies and secure the lives of the other Royal Four. I figure if I keep 'em clear of Lonnie and Rath, they'll get to fulfill their twisted duties later in life and I'll be kept in my peace. Only way to secure that is to kill my family, if you could call them that.  
  
There's always a price to pay for vanity, and Lonnie and Rath have to pay for theirs. So I stole a pick-up truck, intent on catching up with the three and taking them out. But no such luck. I figure they'll scope out Roswell a day or two though, feel out the group. As I said, dumb fucks. I'll make my move while they got their head stuck up their asses. "Hey, doe."  
  
The man behind the cash register looked up, and a surprised look came upon his face. I figured it was because of my appearance, and I smirked. "What'd you say?" he finally grumbled out, as if his new tone would scare me off.  
  
"What's the quickest route to Roswell?"  
  
He finally sighed in relief; probably half expecting I'd slice and dice him. He pointed out the window to a dusty road behind them. "Take that road down there and you'll be there by tomorrow morning."  
  
I looked past the gas station and chuckled. Boy, were they in for a surprise. "Cornball."  
  
~*~  
  
Liz stood, tapping her fingers on the counter, her eyes trained precariously on Michael. He grunted as he flipped a burger and Liz let out a huff of anger. "Michael, when am I going to get my order of two Will Smith's with a side of Saturn rings?"  
  
"They'll get it when they get it." Michael told her, not looking up as he worked the grill with fervor. Jose had gotten sick with the flu the night before, and Michael was forced to pick up the reins and pull in two shifts. It was exhausting.  
  
Liz's taps became less light, as if they were pounding into the counter to make Michael get her order out faster. "And can you stop with that racquet? It messes up my concentration." Michael snapped, watching Liz with a smirk as she rolled her eyes and finally walked away.  
  
Liz entered the break room, sighing as she finally plopped onto the couch with a soft thud. The past few weeks had been tiring, to say the least. First Future Max had shown up, then the disappearance with the whole town, then the Skins, and now Max's obvious distance from her.  
  
She knew it was to be expected, because she'd sacrificed her love for the well being of billions, but she still couldn't help but be a little heartbroken. Even though she'd left for Florida that previous summer, part of her had always hoped she and Max would end up together. Looked like that would never be in her dreams again.  
  
"You too?"  
  
Liz looked up to see Maria, obviously furious, standing above Liz. She looked towards the kitchen and saw the scowl placed perfectly on Michael's face. It seemed she wasn't the only one mad with the brooding alien. She nodded, and Maria sat next to her. She knew she had been a bit rash back at the counter, but with all she'd had dealt with lately she couldn't help but snap.  
  
She knew it wasn't Michael's fault, and that he too was just trying to take it all in. Especially after Courtney had died. "Is he taking Courtney's death pretty hard?" Liz asked. Maria frowned for a moment, as if the subject was still a bit touchy, but then silently nodded her confirmation.  
  
"Just further proves my point that he was attracted to the girl," Maria finally spoke, "I think I actually mean it now when I say it's over. I just had a relationship in my head that was never there. It hasn't been since the starting of last summer."  
  
Liz gave her sullen friend a sympathetic look, "Come on, Maria. You don't know that." But neither did she. Though she and Michael were in the same group, they were far from best friends. More like strangers brought together by the love of their best friends. Funny. Seemed that title had been shattered as of recent for both.  
  
"I don't know, Liz. I'm not sure it's going to work out." They sat silent for a moment, both caught up in the thoughts of their own crumbling relationships. Michael finally cleared his throat from the kitchen, as if to say their orders were up.  
  
Maria sighed beside her, and then got up. She planted a careful smile on her face, and Liz wondered how she'd manage that after all the turmoil they'd been through lately. "Come on. Let's go give Spaceboy a taste of our sistah style," Maria kidded her friend, finally eliciting a smile from Liz. She grabbed Maria's hand, and they left the break room to finish their shifts.  
  
~*~  
  
Zan slipped into the Evan's home through Max's window, which strangely enough, had been left unlocked. "Anyone 'round here know how'd-a lock their doors?" He heard the faint sound of the water running from a closed door to the left of him, and by the looks of the room, figured his other half, Max, was taking a shower.  
  
Thinking he had a few minutes to situate himself, he made his way to the closet to see what type of style his twin was sporting. He searched the rack, various looks of disgust and horror crossing over his face. Kid sure knew how to clean up. He lifted his black and tattered shirt off his body and took a blue-collared, button down shirt from the rack and silently put it on, his hands moving from top to bottom to secure the buttons with his powers.  
  
He then looked down, knowing his baggy black jeans would make him look a bit out of place. He changed the color to blue, moving his hand over the various holes from fucking around and getting into fights to make the jeans look neat. The holes were gone, and Zan grumbled to himself as he looked in the mirror. He'd probably look the spitting image of Max Evans, were it not for his spikes, tattoos, and piercings. He finally shrugged, going over to the dresser to pick out some socks.  
  
He opened the first drawer, instead finding something more enlightening. It was a small frame, and he turned it over to see a dark haired girl smiling softly. He chuckled, "This must be the Missus." He studied her for a moment, thinking she was a bit too frigid for his tastes.  
  
He put it back in its place then, grabbing some socks and quickly but carefully slipping them on so as not to disturb his twin, who had shut the shower off. Better to surprise him rather than make him think something was up. The boy finally filed out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel around his waist. He turned, his mouth dropping open almost instantly at the site of Zan in his clothes. "Who are you?" he finally asked incredulously.  
  
"Your new best friend," Zan simply replied, throwing a punch that knocked him out. He smirked. Piece of cake.  
  
~*~  
  
Max's eyes finally fluttered open, and he looked down to see he was sitting in his desk chair, both of his arms securely tied behind the chair, preventing him from trying to get up, much less try and tackle the person that had knocked him out. His gaze finally refocused to the light, and he looked over to see a look-alike of him sitting on the bed, his arms above his head as if he were resting. Max breathed out a sigh of relief, ready to use his powers to undo the ropes.  
  
"Wouldn't do that if I were you. 'Cause you more harm than good," his apparent twin finally spoke, a smirk displayed on his face. Max grunted, the ropes seamlessly tightening, and he finally relaxed in the chair—if that was at all possible.  
  
"What do you want?" Max managed to ask, remembering when Nasaedo had shape- shifted into him. He knew whoever this was though it definitely wasn't Nasaedo. Nasaedo was dead. This had to be another shapeshifter.  
  
"Here to help ya out," Zan told him, "You just gotta listen."  
  
Max scoffed, thinking the idea absurd. "And why would you expect me to do that?" The thing that struck him peculiar though, was that while this was the spitting image of him there were slight differences. His hair was in long spikes, jutting out like crazy. He also had piercings in his face. Max tried to think why a shapeshifter would alter Max's appearance so drastically, but then resigned himself.  
  
"Don't seem like your in the position to be makin' that call, now are ya?" Zan spoke with a new bitterness to his tone. Max quieted, waiting for him to begin.  
  
"Do you know who I am then?" Zan finally asked, his question obviously impatient. The question had definitely caught Max by surprise. What a silly question to ask. Why would a shapeshifter care if he knew who he really was or not? Didn't he usually just execute whatever plan he'd had? Max had a feeling this plan, whatever his supposed twin had, wouldn't be good.  
  
"You're a shapeshifter, I presume," Max answered honestly, not sure what else to say. The man chuckled, a smirk once again gracing his face.  
  
"Guess your protector decided to let a few details slide, eh?" At Max's confusion, he continued, "Name's Zan. I'm your other half."  
  
Realization dawned on Max, and he finally understood. He vaguely remembered the story Michael had told him about how there were originally eight pods from the crash, and that the other four were missing. What were in those pods was unknown. Now he knew.  
  
"I know there were eight pods," Max finally spoke, "What are you doing here though?"  
  
Zan finally got up from his spot, beginning a steady pace in Max's room. Max was beginning to get impatient, but he knew he was in no position to call the shots so he sat tied up, and silent.  
  
Zan finally started speaking though. "Goes like this: guys up there," Zan pointed to the air, "called a meeting. It's the Summit. They want the Royal Four, and they need their King," Zan pointed between Max and him, "Don't have no idea what's going down, but I don't want to take no part in it. We got contacted, you see. And the other three of my group," Zan laughed dryly, "didn't seem to agree with my decision. So they tried to kill me."  
  
He paused, and Max finally found the courage to speak. "That still doesn't explain why you're here."  
  
Zan waved him off. "It sure does. They're coming to town, Maxie boy. Probably already here, staking out your place. Which is why we gotta move fast."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"What I mean is that Lonnie and Rath are goin' to trick you into goin to the Summit. But you gotta refuse," Zan paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts and then spoke. "That's why I'm here. I'm gonna take your place for a few days to make sure things go smooth. Then I'll be outta your hair."  
  
Max listened intently; sure he had some hidden agenda. He looked at his duplicate, looking for any signs that he was lying. He found none. He sighed, using his powers to untie the ropes. He got up, facing off with his twin. "Why can't I just do this myself? Why do you have to take my place?" Max asked, understanding his concern, but wondering why he'd take over Max's life for a few days. Max could just refuse it himself, with the new information.  
  
"'Cause I got some business to take care with them, if you know what I mean," Zan said sternly, "Wanna catch 'em by surprise." Max's eyes widened, and he ran his hand shakily through his shaggy hair. "It's either this or your friends could be in some real danger. Dead," Zan emphasized, "and all that bad shit."  
  
Max's face looked grave, as if he was finally buying into the whole plan. He didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. But he was willing to comply, seeing as Zan had some scores to settle and Max wasn't sure he was up to deal with the alien business. His tryst with Liz had shattered, as of late, and he was still trying to mend his broken heart.  
  
"Okay. I'll let you pretend to be me for a few days." Max gave in, sitting back in the desk chair again, minus the ropes.  
  
"Cornball, dude," Zan chuckled, and Max gave him a strange look. Zan then straightened up, moving his hand over his face to rid of the piercings. He then ran it over his head, making him the exact image of Max Evans. Max shook his head, which was still reeling with all the new information.  
  
"Don't worry, Chief. Just hang around your room a few days, and I'll take care of everythin.'" Zan said, opening the door to Max's room. "Later." He exited the room, as if he'd never been.  
  
Max pinched his nose, not feeling good about the situation. "Yeah, later." He shook his head, finally getting up to dress. He wasn't sure what he was going to do for the next couple of days, but one of the things he was certain was that he'd be worrying indefinitely of the groups' reaction to the dupes. He hoped he'd made the right decision, but wasn't certain. He finally made his way to his closet; discarding the towel as he began to dress.  
  
~*~ 


	3. Chapter Two

~*~  
  
Chapter Two  
  
~*~  
  
Zan breezed into the Crashdown, his confidence high as he searched the sea of faces for a few familiar ones. He finally spotted Rath, or rather Michael Guerin, Rath's twin. He was behind the counter, furiously working his hands at something. Zan figured he was cooking, and turned his eyes to the customers. He finally spotted a beauty with long luxurious blond hair and made his way over to her. She didn't look up, but merely just kept reading whatever book she had been when he'd made his presence known.  
  
He cleared his throat, finding the ability to mask his voice to match Max's. "Hey." She still continued to scan the book, but nodded her head in acknowledgement. Zan studied her for a moment; trying to decide which Vilandra he liked more. Her face was tense, as if something were bothering her, but Zan was certain had a smile lit her face it would light the sky as well. Lonnie always had an evil gleam in her eye, and she'd always dressed as if she was one of the guys. This girl, obviously more feminine, held a confidence about her yet didn't flaunt it. He decided this was more of what he'd expected his sister to be, but was interrupted in his thoughts when a familiar brown mousy-haired girl came to the table.  
  
He smirked, her outfit obviously ridiculous. She quickly looked at him, as if assessing his gaze, and then shifted hers to Isabel. "Isabel. Max. Is there anything you want?" He smiled at her, trying to catch her attention. She carefully dodged it. Zan shrugged, as if giving up. If this was the Missus, she sure did act like she despised him.  
  
Isabel finally looked up from her book, and Zan caught a glance of her blue eyes. They were misty, as if she'd been crying, but he could see the emotion there. Definitely what he'd expect of his sister. This girl—no, woman—had character. Though they were exactly alike in appearance Zan couldn't help but think she had everything that Lonnie seemed to lack in—when it came to being a human, that is.  
  
"I'm fine, Liz." He heard Isabel say, and she immediately turned back to her book. Liz finally had to meet his gaze, and he kept his tone light.  
  
"Just the usual." He wasn't quite sure what that was, and he only hoped Max's taste buds didn't stray far from his. She nodded her head, and Zan had to wonder what Max had seen in the girl. She seemed innocent, the type to wait for marriage to consummate a relationship. She definitely had curves—that was certain—but lacked in the womanly department. Her face was soft, but her doe eyes and matching hair made her look anything but interesting.  
  
She nodded her head, and finally turned and walked away. Zan looked at the noticeable shortage of skirt, and he smirked as he realized what Max must have seen all along. He noticed a strangely familiar presence near him, and turned slowly to finally see that it was only Ava's twin, Tess. She slowly made her way to the table, wearing tight jeans and a sexy shirt that complimented her in all the right places. She gave him a smile, and Zan couldn't help but return it. Now this was what he had been missing in Ava. This girl was saucy, and knew exactly what she had. And she was looking at him as if she wanted to eat him right up, her eyes seductive yet playful.  
  
"Hey, Isabel," Tess spoke smoothly, eliciting a nod from Isabel. Zan had a feeling the two weren't on good terms, and that definitely extended to him at the moment. Maybe this Royal Four wasn't as close as he had been expecting. But they'd have to be, for what was to come. Zan was damned if he was going to let a few small town hicks ruin his future of freedom.  
  
"You want to go sit alone so we can talk?"  
  
Zan finally returned his eyes back to Tess, who was looking at him hopefully. Zan had a feeling whatever Max and the waitress—Liz—had had been finished. He had a feeling if he and Tess weren't together; they were at least warming up to the possibility.  
  
"Sure." He stood up, making sure his shirt hadn't wrinkled. He almost snorted at the gesture, seeing as his other clothes tended to rip and tear and he'd shrug it off, like a new wound never to heal. He'd dealt with them his whole life. No reason not to remind yourself of your past troubles.  
  
They sat a few booths down, where fewer customers were seated. He watched Tess walk as if she was of higher importance, and Zan smiled to himself. Ava had never seemed to get his juices going, but he could tell that what Ava lacked Tess had required. She had sex appeal and the knowledge of how to use it to her advantage. Zan wouldn't be surprised if she had a string of guys waiting for her outside her door, as she was quite the catch to have.  
  
He sat down, and was slightly disappointed when she sat across from him. He finally realized why, when, she asked a peculiar question. "So how have you been holding up?" she asked, and at his confused expression, "Since Liz broke it off with you?"  
  
Zan raked his hand through his hair, as if deciding how to put it. So he had been right. Max and Liz had broken it off, and Zan wasn't surprised in the least that it had been she to do so. Max was probably sporting the 'woe is me' heart, out for all to see. Zan couldn't help but be relieved that he wasn't as stupid as Max was to fall for a girl when it was obvious he could have the lot of the land. Hell, he was his twin. Just because the boy was a pansy didn't mean he didn't have potential. He finally let out his answer, "Just peachy."  
  
It had been a mild joke to Zan, just testing the waters to see how much of a dork Max really was. Tess looked at him, as if searching his eyes to see any fault. She then smiled slightly, laughing softly. "Are you sure?"  
  
Liz set his drink down then, slamming it a little bit down. Zan looked towards her, finding that her lips were curled as if almost in anger and she looked tense. Obviously not a fan of Tess. "Would you like anything, Tess?"  
  
"I'm fine," Tess replied with a delicate sweetness to her voice, turning her attention back to Zan. Liz nodded her head curtly, turning and walking away. Her body was rigid, and Zan had to wonder if the reason Liz broke it off with Max was because of Tess. Maybe the boy wasn't so clueless after all.  
  
"I'm positive," Zan replied to her question, and Tess once again seemed to be looking for any hidden answers in his eyes. She found none, as strangely enough, Zan was looking at her with want. Before she could get words out, Zan heard a commotion at the end of the restaurant.  
  
"Michael, where the hell is my damn Will Smith burger!!"  
  
Zan chuckled, recognizing the innocent bit from earlier. His visit with Tess obviously had set the girl off. Zan sat back, relaxed, and continued to converse with Tess. This was definitely going to be worth the charades.  
  
~*~  
  
Michael, although unhinged, stared at Liz Parker in shock. Her frame shook in absolute anger, and Michael had the queasy feeling that while she was bitching at him her anger was obviously placed somewhere else. Likely, her anger was pointed towards Max. "Come on, Parker. Lighten up. It's right here." Michael left the gruffness out of his voice, carefully sliding the plate onto the counter. He knew he could be a jackass sometimes, but his grouchiness never caused such anger in someone—other than Maria, of course.  
  
She took it, her anger diminishing slightly as she blushed in embarrassment. She mumbled a polite 'thank you,' far less surprising from her outburst from only moments before. She walked away and Michael shook his head in confusion, scratching his eyebrow, a trademark of his whenever something puzzled him. He wondered lately what the hell had crawled up Liz's ass.  
  
Sure, they were in the same group, but Michael hardly ever paid attention to Liz's idiosyncrasies. She was always swooning over something Max had said, or done, or probably even wrote. Michael rolled his eyes, never one to buy into the whole soul-mates crap. He liked to breathe his own air, particularly around Maria. She was anything but a breath of fresh air.  
  
As if on cue, Maria sidled up to the counter, a cold demeanor to her eyes. Oh, boy, she had it in for him now. He worked harder on the grill, concentrating to hopefully drone out Maria's next rant. "Look what you did now," Maria grumbled, and Michael couldn't help but give her a scowl. No such luck on ignoring the annoying little pest. What had he seen in her again?  
  
"Just because I got your panties in a twist doesn't mean you have to blame me for everything and more," Michael shot back, finally turning his head back to the task at hand. Maria's presence always had a way of fucking up whatever Michael had been doing at the moment. Due to her incessantly annoying voice, of course.  
  
It wasn't that he hated Maria. He had even thought he might have loved her at one point, but over the summer he realized it would never be anything more than making out in the Eraser Room. She wanted to live a fantasy, and Michael had the distinct feeling he was the nightmare. So why did she bother with him then? If Michael ever wanted to commit to a girl, he was sure to pick someone with a lot less high maintenance than Maria had.  
  
"Michael, don't play games with me. You have no effect on me whatsoever," Maria told him in confidence. Michael snorted, and Maria threw her hands up in a frustrated gesture, walking away. Another score for Michael.  
  
"Sorry about that." A very different voice, less pretentious, more soft, was heard from behind. Michael turned, finding Liz leaning against the wall in the small but formidable kitchen. He turned back to the grill, trying not to look surprised that she had apologized for snapping at him earlier. Why did she care anyway what he thought?  
  
"I'm used to the female hostility towards me, so don't worry about it." Michael's voice turned gruff once again, as if shielding his surprise, yet his curiosity as well. Liz shuffled behind him, and finally he felt a light finger tapping on his shoulder. He turned around again, making himself appear more intimidating. She didn't back down. Damn, this girl was determined.  
  
"I mean it," Liz said softly, looking down. "It's just been a bad couple of days." Michael wasn't sure what to say. They had never talked about how their days went, much less how they were feeling. He was still perplexed why she was still there. Sure, he could understand Little Lizzie Parker apologizing, but it baffled him that she was seeking his forgiveness. As if her outburst had been an inconvenience to him. Actually, it had been a breath of fresh air. At least someone around here wasn't trying to give off the impression that they were happy. The girl had guts.  
  
Michael finally remembered his part, and bit out, "What, you and Max haven't hit the sack lately so you're taking it out on me?" Michael asked rhetorically, "Sorry if it doesn't perk my interest, Parker." He turned back to the grill; almost cussing when he realized his burgers had gone to waste from her interruption. He moved his hand over them, making them rare once again. No need to let good meat go to waste.  
  
"I don't get you." Liz said quietly behind him, though her tone was more persistent now. "I come here to apologize and you throw it in my face." She was challenging him, he knew, as if expecting him to back down and apologize as well.  
  
He dodged the question, coughing audibly and then managing the only thing he could muster. "I don't want to hear it, okay?" he was met with silence. "You've got customers waiting so why don't you stop pestering me and get to work?" It hadn't been much of an answer, but he didn't know what else Liz expected from him. Unlike other arguments with Maria, this one actually had definition. It puzzled Michael more than he wanted to admit.  
  
"Will do," Liz said under her breath, and after a moment Michael felt her presence leave the small kitchen. He watched her maneuver around the café for a minute, finally cussing when he realized he'd burned the food yet again.  
  
~*~  
  
"So what did Max say to you on the phone? It sounded pretty..."  
  
"Intense?" Liz supplied for her friend. Maria nodded her head, for once waiting patiently for her friend to answer. They stood outside the Crashdown as Liz locked the main door, and they headed across the street to the UFO Center.  
  
Liz had been surprised when Max had called her earlier, but then relaxed when he simply said he wanted to hold a meeting while he was on break at his job. Liz had been fruitless in her attempt to not go, but Max finally convinced her. Maria had been there, changing into a skirt and a nice top—she had a performance that night and she and Liz were going to meet up with Alex and go together. But Max's abrupt call had ended their night of normalcy.  
  
She sighed, finally explaining to Maria as they crossed the street, "He was pretty adamant that I come. All he said was that he had something important to tell us all." Maria let out a frustrated sigh, and Liz went to open the main door that led downstairs to the UFO Center. Maria stopped her though, and Liz dropped her hand, confused.  
  
"I am so sick of this. I mean, I have to deal with Michael's bullshit," Maria angrily let out, "And when I finally get another gig the aliens have to screw it up yet again." Maria shook her head, as if trying to contemplate how she could make sense of the situation they were in.  
  
"I'm sorry, Maria," Liz whispered quietly, unsure of what to tell her forlorn friend. Sure, they'd bought into the alien deal. It had been Liz's curious nature that brought them to this, and she never thought there would be a day when she didn't want to be around Max Evans.  
  
It seemed Maria's train of thought was coming up with the same conclusion. She felt bad, even blamed herself for Maria's dilemma. She knew her friend sometimes over exaggerated, but Maria had every right to feel alienated from her old life. They'd sacrificed so much since finding out Max's, Isabel's and Michael's secret. For Liz, it had been worth it, but she was sure Maria was doubting her involvement as of late. Michael had kept her grounded, gave her something to hope for, and now she didn't even have that to get through all the alien mess.  
  
"It's not your fault, chica," Maria's tone more sympathetic. "God knows you and Max will get together soon enough." Maria thought she was reassuring Liz, but she was only further crushing her hopes in that her friend was wrong. Dead wrong. She opened the door and they walked in to hopefully get the meeting over with.  
  
~*~  
  
Zan watched as Max's friends finally filed into the UFO Center, for some reason awkward towards one another and equally impatient. Zan noticed one person was missing, and couldn't put his finger on his name...Alex! He sighed, running his hand through his hair. He'd have to get on with it. He knew his reason to call the meeting was a farce, but he was certain his family was going to make an appearance tonight. Assholes. He'd seen them scoping out the Evans' house earlier that day, and he laughed at their less than subtle way of sending up a red flag.  
  
Zan cleared his throat, reminding himself he had to cloak his thick New York accent. "I called this meeting tonight because I wanted to talk about something that happened a few days ago." Several eyes bored into him, and he knew everyone was tense. He hadn't been around for the fallout, but Zan was pretty sure Max was the cause of his friends' less than enthusiastic view of him. The only person that seemed remotely interested in what he had to say was Tess, who dutifully placed herself right next to him.  
  
"What happened?" someone finally asked. It was Michael. He noticed his second in command, rather Max's, was glancing at Liz in a curious way. He almost smirked at the scene displayed before him, but coughed and then spoke.  
  
"A few days ago a star died," Zan explained, "I think it might mean something." If he had heard this coming from his mouth, he probably would have rolled his eyes and gave himself the finger. It was bullshit, he knew. Everyone that was there gave a collective groan.  
  
"Max, I missed my performance for this," Maria pressed, obviously angry, "I thought it was actually something important." Zan opened his mouth to keep the girl occupied, as he could feel the other three close to the premises.  
  
His mouth clamped shut when he saw a lanky boy running down the steps, shocked and out of breath. Showtime. "I, uh, there's," he paused, "We got company." The boy breathed out, and finally took his place with the group. Zan finally saw his former three, walking down the steps with careful precision. He reflexively let his jaw twitch in anger, ready to strike.  
  
"Who are you?" Michael asked, stepping up as if in defense. Zan sucked in a breath, calming himself down before the storm.  
  
"We're you."  
  
~*~  
  
Liz watched Max and Tess debate the situation. The three duplicates, who had the same identities as Michael, Isabel, and Tess, had explained themselves. They'd told them of how their brother, Zan, had died in a freak accident. It almost seemed eerie to her—as if something wasn't right with the situation. She finally turned her attention back to the matter at hand, as she watched Max pace the floor.  
  
"I don't know, Tess. How can we be sure they're not just trying to lure us to the bigger enemy?"  
  
"They're our other halves, Max. How could they be against us?" Tess argued. The group around them was silent, and Liz wondered why Tess was fighting Max so hard on this. After all, she did want Max, right? "Look at it this way. It could be a chance to find out all the answers we've been looking for."  
  
Though Liz hadn't wanted to take an active role in the discussion, she felt queasy at the thought of her friends being whisked off to New York by a bunch of strangers. If she had learned anything from their past year together as a group, and even recently, it was that they should trust no one outside the group.  
  
"I agree with Max," Liz interrupted as Max continued to press the situation. "I don't think we should be so quick to trust them."  
  
Tess and Max turned to look at her, Tess's smile fitting smugly at her lips. Max look surprised, as if he hadn't expected her to stand up for him. Even though they'd broken up, and were on bad terms, Liz just couldn't stand by without voicing her opinion.  
  
"You would." Liz sucked in a breath, taking in Tess's malice. She opened her mouth to say something, but found no words. She looked to Max for help, but he just merely stood there, as if mocking her newfound position. What was wrong with him? She had just stood up for his decision.  
  
"I wouldn't talk Tess," Maria spat, standing up for her best friend, "You sure have been the little puppy, haven't you? Wagging tail and all." She watched Max smirk, and Liz looked quizzically at him. He finally turned it into a cough, hiding his amusement.  
  
"This doesn't concern you, alright? You don't know what it's like to be us," Tess firmly retorted, and Liz could at least agree with her on that. She didn't know what it was like to feel so alienated all her life, though sometimes as a teenager that was a given, but she did know she wanted her friends to be safe. Couldn't Tess realize what a risk it would be to just up and go to New York?  
  
"Look, we're all in this together." Liz turned to see Michael speaking. She was surprised by his admittance that they were all a group, as she remembered a time when he would say the exact same words to her. She felt a surge of hope, and Michael's gaze flickered towards her. She silently thanked him, but all he did was avert his gaze.  
  
"Finally we agree on something," Maria shot towards Michael, her voice tempered but hopeful. She knew Maria was still holding onto the hope that Michael still considered her part of his life.  
  
"We didn't agree. I came up with it all on my own," Michael grunted out, and Maria rolled her eyes effectively. Liz smiled for once, regaling in the comfort that her two friends were still the same. Fighting at each other's throats.  
  
"Then it's settled," Isabel finally spoke up, for once the mediator of the group. "We'll tell them we still have to think about it, and we'll make a decision when we find more out." Everyone silently put in their okay, and Max finally strode out of the room to give the other three dupes their decision. Everyone started filing out, and Liz impulsively stopped Michael as they were the only two left in the room.  
  
"Thanks for helping me out there," Liz thanked him, her smile genuine. She was hoping this time he would accept something from her, as their last encounter was anything but happy-go-lucky.  
  
She was surprised when his face relaxed and he talked almost softly to her. "No problem. Was the least I could do after acting like a—"  
  
"Jackass?" Liz supplied. He smirked and laughed shortly. For some reason, Liz was glad she'd placed that smirk on his face, even though it wasn't a full-out smile. His face was usually equipped with a nasty frown, due to everyone's criticism of him and Maria's constant bickering.  
  
"Yea," Michael replied, "you could say that." Liz finally made a step for the door to leave and catch up with Maria, but she stopped to look back up at him as he instinctively looked down at her.  
  
"I'll see you at work tomorrow then?"  
  
"Yeah." Was his only reply. Liz gave him one last glance, glad that their past actions had been rectified. They finally left the room, going their separate ways.  
  
~*~ 


	4. Chapter Three

~*~  
  
Chapter Three  
  
~*~  
  
November 3rd –  
  
I'm Liz Parker, one with lost heart. I've always been true to it, through thick and thin.  
  
I've always believed that when it comes to matters of the heart, you should always follow it. My Grandma Claudia taught me that, and I've always trusted in her judgment. Somehow that one journey, one I was so true to with Max, has me lost in a sea of responsibilities. No. Duties. It's my duty to make sure Max finds his way to Tess, or at least makes an effort to make her feel welcome to the group.  
  
I fulfilled that duty, not so long ago, and now I find myself picking up the pieces of a broken heart—Maria's. It's ironic that I gave up my future of love and peacefulness for one that is uncertain, and left me to see the world. Alone. While Max is still trying to cope with my compromising position with Kyle, Maria is still on the bend from Michael. With all the new alien problems, I have little to no time to let myself heal—or feel, for that matter.  
  
I used to be filled with possibilities. Goals. Now they're lost in the wind, as I run down the path with no destination set. There had been hope, that while Max and I were going through a hard time, we'd end up together.  
  
That's how love works. It warms your heart; it makes you feel things that scientifically aren't possible. My love for science, it seems, has turned towards Max. Through finding out his secret, I've let that part of myself go. Maybe through this fog, I'm supposed to find something of myself. Something I left not too long ago. Maybe, just maybe, I can find a resolution in all this to make the pain more bearable.  
  
I can say that to myself, but it wouldn't be true to my heart. But then again, have I listened to my heart at all these past months? I could say no, but that would be a lie. My heart, though straining, told me to push Max away. Save lives. Do the right thing.  
  
I always do, after all, don't I?  
  
~*~  
  
Liz sighed, closing her journal in resignation. She noticed the mournful tone in her writing, usually instead filled with hope and ideas. She couldn't help but feel depressed, as everything she was so certain of that past year had been shattered. And she'd been the one to do it.  
  
She sighed, avoiding looking at the stars that adorned her balcony from above. They were a bitter memory of other nights, where she'd finish a journal entry, and then spend the rest of her evening wondering where in those stars Max's home planet lay. She was about to get up when she heard a scraping noise coming from the ladder, as if someone was coming up. She steeled herself, preparing for the inevitable visit from Max.  
  
Though she'd told him more than once that she'd slept with Kyle, she had a feeling he was still hanging onto hope. Though it killed her to hurt him anymore, she knew she had to be firmer this time. Strong.  
  
His head finally bobbed up, and a minute later he was bringing himself over her balcony. She placed her journal behind her, not sure why but feeling safer in the knowledge that he hadn't seen it. She remembered that one terrifying week when she'd lost it, or at least she thought she had. A wry smile almost came to her face when she remembered how Michael had stolen it. 'To see if he could trust her,' she recalled.  
  
Though she normally would have been angry, his words had touched her and rung true. It had been an awfully big secret to carry, and she knew if she were in Michael's place she would have probably done the same. She watched Max stand before her, as if fumbling for words. She decided to start what she knew would be an awkward and hard conversation to get through.  
  
"Max? What are you doing here?"  
  
He ran his hand through his hair, a sign that he was puzzled. Liz waited, patient. "I had to talk to someone," he admitted. "I didn't know where to go yet I found myself here." He stopped, as if uncertain that this was now a good idea.  
  
Liz sucked in a breath; certain this had something to do with the meeting tonight. Maybe he would thank her for sticking up for him, or maybe he was deciding to go against his decision. Whatever it was, Liz had a feeling it didn't have to do with their relationship. Or lack thereof one, as of recent events.  
  
"Okay. So talk." Liz tried to be casual, but by Max's expression, she knew she had sounded a bit less than enthusiastic. It wasn't that she didn't want to converse with Max, she was just afraid if she did she would either lose herself in him, or he would end up taking another blow. What decision she would ultimately make she was certain of, but playing with the idea still didn't hurt. Until now at least.  
  
He moved towards her, hesitating and finally sitting on the edge of her lawn chair, his body facing towards the wall. Liz was thankful he wasn't facing her when he talked, as his eyes looked far more intense tonight than they had in weeks. "These past few days, Liz, I haven't been me."  
  
He finally twisted his body around, as if to see her reaction. In his eyes, she saw a bit of hope still residing there. She almost winced, for she'd hoped that was long ago. In a way, it was weird to still love Max. Because though she still loved him, she wasn't sure she wanted him to love her. She bit her lip, assessing the situation, pondering what to say, and was confused.  
  
He hadn't been himself? Sure, she'd been obviously irritated by his sudden frequent appearances with Tess, but that hadn't been unlike Max. She'd understood that he would most likely turn to Tess in the afterthought of her wrecking their perfect relationship. Perfect wasn't exactly the way to explain it anymore. Dysfunctional was more like it.  
  
"I'm not following," she finally responded, and Max sighed openly and threw her for a loop as he scooted closer to her on the lawn chair and took her hand in his. Though her first instinct was to remove it, she let it remain for at least that moment. When Liz had felt him grab her hand, she'd expected a spark. Something to say their connection was still there through all the alien ventures. What had surprised her, then, was that she'd felt nothing. Connection—severed.  
  
"The person you've been seeing all day, Liz, it hasn't been me," Max explained, trying to catch her eye. "It was Zan."  
  
Liz finally let out a breath, right in her assessment that something had been wrong about the three duplicates. They'd said Zan was dead, but if he'd been roaming around Roswell—very convincingly—it was obvious they were up to something. "They said he was dead, Max."  
  
Max shook his head, discarding her claim. "From what I've been told, they tried to kill him back in New York," Max told her, again raking his hand through his hair. "Anything I do or say to you Liz, I just wanted you to know. It isn't me."  
  
Liz finally caught the breeze of the conversation. Though he'd needed to talk, Liz figured he was worried Zan might have offended her in some way. Which, of course, was something Max would never do because his hope was still evident in his eyes. Max continued on, seeing her faltering gaze.  
  
"I know that after what happened, you might be a little cautious of the group." He paused, and then, "I just need you to help Zan out, Liz, and not say anything you'll regret."  
  
Liz found herself getting uncomfortable in the situation, and for once, uncomfortable with Max and his ideas about what she would say or do to the group because of their predicament with one another. "Max, what the hell do you think I'm going to say?" she knew it'd been harsh, but her days of patience seemed well over ever since Future Max had stepped on her balcony.  
  
She saw his shock at her truth and outburst, and he slipped his hand away from hers. Liz, angry, had forgotten they'd even been touching. "Liz..."  
  
"No, Max, please don't," Liz took a breath, finding it hard to calm down, "I can understand you filling me in about Zan, but your out of line when it comes to my place in the group," she stopped, seeing his gaze pause. Though she'd always viewed herself as kind, she went in for the kill, though she tried to sound nice throughout it. "You, of all people, should know that nothing, not even Kyle and I sleeping together, would change my view of things. Max, I'm the one that slept with Kyle. Not you."  
  
She saw him shudder, almost, as she yet again admitted to sleeping with Kyle. The first few times she'd felt sorry for him, even for herself, for the situation she'd forced them in. Now she was just tired, tired of proving herself to Max and trying to fix his mold. Though her words to him that one night in his room were forced, Liz had to admit all words had some truth. In a way, Max did hold her on a pedestal.  
  
She'd fallen from grace, and Max had yet to accept that. "I'm sorry, Liz." Max finally spoke, his voice hoarse. Liz's mood softened, knowing she had given him another blow to the heart.  
  
"Can you please leave, Max?" she asked politely, trying to end the awkward situation they'd placed themselves in. No. Max had placed them in it. She'd just merely been dragged along for the castrating ride.  
  
"I'll leave." He said. "But I still love you." He got up, walking away without another word. Liz's heart lurched, and she gulped, as if to stall her tears.  
  
"Please don't say that, Max. I just—I can't love you back ever again. I can't return what you have to give—I," Liz paused, "I'm sorry." She saw his shoulders slump, in defeat, and she watched him avert his gaze to the ground as he made his way back down the ladder. Carefully avoiding her presence, and Liz was grateful for that.  
  
Had he seen her, he would have seen the tears streaming down her face. Liz composed herself, finally, and slipped her journal into its hiding place. When the brick was secure, she made her way through her window, locking it shut.  
  
~*~  
  
Michael walked through the alley to the back door of the Crashdown. He opened the door, glad for its silence. Maria had been outside his door, prolonging his journey to his bike, and eventually making him late for work. He walked towards his locker to change his shirt, but stopped mid-way when he saw Liz perched on the couch, her head hanging in mute silence.  
  
Part of him wanted to pretend he hadn't witnessed her obvious distress, but another part of him was curious what had her guard down.  
  
Though he and Liz didn't have a lot in common, there was one thing he and she shared. They always kept appearances up, however they may cover what mood they were really in. Michael, usually angry, knew it was to cover whatever he'd been raking over in his mind. Usually it was his persisting dilemma with Maria, Max's constant eye on him, or his doubts over the way his life had turned out.  
  
With Liz, she always tried to appear happy and unaffected by the events of an alien life. Michael knew the feeling all too well. It was called being numb. He just hadn't realized he and Liz were in the same damned boat till yesterday, when she'd showed such fire in her eyes. She'd tipped that boat yesterday, and had caught Michael off guard in the process. He finally cleared his throat, making his presence known and leaving her the decision on how far she wanted to let him see how obviously broken she was.  
  
She lifted her head, and he almost sucked in a breath. Her eyes were puffy, probably from deprivation of sleep and crying. Her lips were chapped, an indication she'd been biting it frequently. But most of all, Michael noticed the look in her eyes. It was one of defeat. "You okay?"  
  
He wasn't surprised when her mouth opened and she laughed, though it came out strangled and more like a cry. "I'm fine." She got up, brushing the tears that remained on her face. Michael looked down, unsure of what to say in these situations, though he knew perfectly well it had to do with Max. All of her tears had to do with Max. It came with the alien package, it seemed.  
  
"Max?" he simply asked, and she nodded. She moved past him, and he stood still, until he heard her blowing her nose. He made his way over to the couch and sat down, his eye on her. She finally turned, saw him sitting on the couch, but walked back and sat in her original place.  
  
"I know it probably sounds dull to you," Liz turned to him, as he cocked an eyebrow, and she smiled in spite of her mood. "But it's just I never expected it to get to this point."  
  
Michael didn't need to hear anything else. He knew she was referring to Max. "Funny how that happens, huh?" It was all he could say. Though he wasn't much for words, he was almost in agreement with her statement. He was never an optimistic for love, but he had at least hoped Maria would understand who he was and accept that assessment at face value. She had yet to grant that wish, and Michael had long since let it die.  
  
Liz sighed behind him, "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to waste any of your time." He turned to her, seeing a small smile residing on her face. Though he was uncertain how it was placed there, he was just glad she wasn't crying anymore. For some reason, he hoped he was the cause of that smile, but he doubted himself, as he usually did in these moments. Michael Guerin was never charming. Warrior. Stonewall. Complete Idiot.  
  
"No sweat," Michael replied, "I mean—it wasn't a waste of my time. I'm surprised you feel you can confide in me," Michael rephrased. And he was being honest. He was never one to speak his actions with words, but it was another thing when someone was willing to explain theirs. Sure, Maria did that every living second, but it was more of a ramble. With Liz, it felt like she was actually seeking his counsel. It actually made him feel useful—the only other time he felt that way was when he was accomplishing something with his powers. It was refreshing.  
  
"So am I." Another surprise from Liz Parker, he noted. He decided that the girl he had ruled ordinary was full of surprises, and anything but his previous view of her. He shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to continue their conversation. He had never been the type to open up to a stranger—not that she was a stranger, but they weren't exactly friends either.  
  
Liz shifted in her seat, and finally rose. "Thanks, Michael," she said, exiting the backroom and entering the café. Michael scratched his eyebrow; still shocked that he just formed a semi-conversation with Liz, his exact opposite.  
  
Or was she?  
  
~*~ 


	5. Chapter Four

~*~  
  
Chapter Four  
  
~*~  
  
"Mmmm..." Liz moaned into the secure feeling of slow lips, moving over hers. His hand tickled up her hip, as if teasing her into moaning again into his mouth. She complied, wringing her hands in the soft feel of his silk hair. It hung beautifully at the nape of his neck, mussed in their fervor.  
  
She felt him pushing her on the couch, and he pulled back, tipping her head up with his hand, cupping her cheek. "Is this what you want?" Liz captured his lips, his question answered. He scraped her lip with his teeth, but Liz didn't care. Her thoughts were a mess, as she was sure she probably appeared to him.  
  
She felt comfortable in the safety of his arms, as he softly trailed kisses over the soft curves of her body. She leaned into him, and he groaned in her mouth. "Michael..."  
  
She opened her eyes then, and what she saw instead shocked her. She pulled away, breathless with the intensity of the kiss. But it wasn't intense anymore. The once amber eyes that set her off course and made her wild with anticipation were suddenly a muddier brown, and far more mischievous than anything. They were Max's.  
  
"Oh!" Liz turned at the voice of surprise, her hand coming to her mouth as Maria walked in on them. She excused herself, though she saw her friend smiling coyly, and she left. Liz turned, her eyes accusatory.  
  
"How could you do that?" Liz asked incredulously. He smirked, getting up from the worn down couch to adjust his clothes. Liz remembered her conversation with Max the night before, and knew full well this was Zan. He'd obviously heard of her and Max's relationship, and decided to use it to his advantage.  
  
Liz couldn't help but wipe her mouth in embarrassment because she thought she'd whispered Michael's name while kissing this Max imposter. No, she had. She'd thought it was she and Michael, not her and Max. Liz fumed, realizing Zan was appearing to her as Michael. Something was up. Why would he do that? And why had she been so inviting to the possibility?  
  
Liz shook her head, and Zan finally answered with a breathy chuckle. "You taste sweet. And don't forget it." His New York accent was very thick; Liz had confirmed her theory. It had been Zan, and for some reason he'd felt compelled to appear to her as Michael.  
  
"Don't forget it?" Liz shook her head, getting up to fix her clothes. Her time passion spent was now crawling up her spine in agony. She thought of taking a shower to wash off his touch, first sweet when she'd thought it was Michael's but now disgusting in the truth that it was not. Why had she given into Michael? No. Zan. She was so confused. She pressed both of her hands against her temples, closing her eyes for a moment to calm down.  
  
"Who you were thinking of while we kissed, honey," Zan mocked her, his breath on her back. She jumped, moving away.  
  
"All you can think about is Michael." He supplied, and Liz turned to face him. His face was hard, as if challenging. "Wonder how Max would feel if he knew his girl was making not only with her ex, but his best friend. Tsk, tsk, Liz. An' I thought you were a good girl."  
  
Before she could form a response, he left the room. Liz's first instinct was to panic. What if Zan told Max what he had found out? She shook her head, absently rubbing her lips with her fingertips to rid the feel of the boy's mouth. Zan wouldn't tell Max. If he did, he would also reveal that he'd kissed her. Max wouldn't be happy about that outcome either.  
  
Liz felt the urge to cry, but held it in. What was wrong with her? She'd always been so good at keeping a situation in control, and one movement from a supposed Michael and she'd fell into his lap. What had happened? She'd never been attracted to Michael before. Her mouth dropped open in realization. She was attracted to Michael.  
  
"You mind, Parker?" Michael barked. Liz's head whipped to the left, and Michael's form was leaning against the kitchen entrance. She realized it was open to view of the backroom, and that Michael had seen her kissing Zan. Well, Max, according to him.  
  
"I'm sorry?" Liz asked, still flustered from the absurdity of the situation. He rolled his eyes, and she could tell that he was annoyed with her. Why?  
  
"It's hard not to hear your moans, Parker," he growled out, almost in anger. Why was he taking it so personally? "We need you out in the café. Next time, take it in private."  
  
He turned, as if leaving, and Liz put her head in her hands. "I thought it was you," she whispered, thinking he had returned to his previous spot in front of the grill.  
  
"What?"  
  
Liz again shot her head up, surprised. She blinked, looking at Michael as he stood once again in the entrance of the kitchen. Liz looked at his stance, which she noticed was in its usual defensive mode. He had his arms crossed against his chest, a scowl on his face. But Liz looked towards his eyes, and had the distinct feeling she saw fire there. Curiosity. Surprise. Definitely not disgust.  
  
Liz shook her head, realizing she was prolonging an awkward and embarrassing moment. "Um, nothing." She got up, smoothing out her uniform and quickly picking up her order pad before making a dash to the door. "I need to get back out there."  
  
She left the backroom, relieved when Michael wasn't in her view anymore. What had brought on that kiss? Liz touched her lips, trying to remember what had happened. She had been changing...Yes!  
  
She had been getting ready for her shift when Michael had come in and started talking with her. It had all seemed so real. She saw something in him that was different—a predatory look that in some strange way was appealing. And all along, it had been Zan. Liz almost cursed herself, but remembered she was working and started walking to a table with new customers.  
  
When had she developed an attraction to Michael? And better yet, had he heard her words? Liz feared he had, for she was certain that his eyes were following her long after she left the backroom.  
  
~*~  
  
"Does this mean you two are together?"  
  
Liz pulled the metal chairs up on their tables, wiping her forehead in the process. They had closed fifteen minutes ago and Liz was regretting accepting Maria's invitation to stay after and help out. She should have just let her best friend go home, because while she loved her dearly, she sometimes just couldn't get a clue. But she had told her friend she could stay, because while she could live with the peace of closing up, she would feel Michael's presence in the back. Maria was her only distraction from that thought.  
  
"Maria!" Liz's friend looked up, a little surprised by her friend's obvious discomfort. Liz knew she was acting strange. She even felt different. But saving the world did that to you. It defined you. It changed your being. Liz couldn't say it was for the better. Shaking her head, she tried to calm down. "I've told you. Max and I aren't getting together. You know we aren't meant—"  
  
"You say that now," Maria protested as she carelessly flipped through a magazine. Liz put up the last chair and watched her friend flip through the magazine. "You've been saying that, Liz, but I know you. Max will eventually break the ice and you'll thaw."  
  
Liz sighed, looking down to the green tiled floor. Her friend just didn't understand it. But why would she? Liz always told her friend the truth, and never lied to her. She realized that once they had gotten involved with the aliens' that part had changed. Little by little, she was keeping more and more secrets from her unsuspecting friend.  
  
"There's nothing to thaw. We're over. He knows that now." Liz turned to get the broom and caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She heard Maria speaking, but the words didn't register in her head. She sucked in a breath, certain that it was Michael retreating from the backroom after cleaning the grill.  
  
He stopped behind her, and she sighed when Maria started talking to him. Nice distraction. She'd just slip out of the diner area before he could say anything. "I need to talk to you."  
  
Liz turned, unable to do anything else, and knew he had meant her. His eyes were on her, his stance perfected, as if to intimidate her. "About what?" Maria asked, oblivious to the tension between Liz and Michael. Michael shook his head at his former girlfriend, who was now standing with her hands on her hips.  
  
"Not you. Liz," Michael set his eyes on Liz once again, and Liz gulped. Breathe. Just breathe. The thoughts formed, but her mind hadn't registered. She broke their gaze and opened her mouth for a breath. Maria looked between the two, and then shrugged. She hadn't detected anything suspicious.  
  
She got up, bringing the magazine and her purse with her. "Call me later. We'll talk," Maria told Liz nonchalantly, though she knew Maria wanted the scoop on what Michael might possibly have to say to her. She finally heard the swish of the door, and knew her friend had left her all alone. With Michael.  
  
"What—uh, what do you need to talk to me about?"  
  
Michael quickly ran his hand through his hair, a sign of pause. "Not here. You mind coming over to my place?" Liz felt the need to breathe again, but she held it. He had heard her words—she knew it. Why else would he ask her over?  
  
Liz felt the broom gripped in her hand, and remembered that she was closing the café down. Good. An excuse to escape talking to him about her slip of tongue. "I have to close the Crashdown, Michael."  
  
He shook his head, taking the broom from her hands and placing it against the counter. "It can wait, Parker. This is important." Liz sighed, biting her lip in hesitation. She finally looked into his eyes, and saw impatience. But she also saw what she'd seen earlier in his eyes, like looking into a lion's eyes that was about to pounce. If she didn't go with him, he would just simply pursue her till they could talk.  
  
"Ok," Liz finally agreed, and she walked begrudgingly with him to exit the café. She took her keys out of her pocket, locking the Crashdown up as she left. They headed over to his bike, and Liz paused. He got on, looking at her. As if realizing she'd never been on a bike before, his face softened.  
  
"Don't worry. Just put your arms around my waist and you'll be fine. I'll go slow." Liz gulped, but complied. She climbed onto the bike, taking a moment to adjust. She hesitated, looking at his strong and formidable back. He looked tense. Had she caused that? She finally slipped her small arms around his waist, and though she was probably being paranoid, she felt him relax at her touch.  
  
He started the bike, and they were off.  
  
~*~  
  
Flecks of green could be seen in his amber hued eyes. His hair, a light chocolate brown, made him seem even more exotic to the eye. He walked with a purpose, a stride that no one could break or falter. Everyone had always said he was the bad boy of Roswell, but Liz knew better. He was the epitome of sex appeal. He was holder of everything erotic and everything that could make her bones literally weak.  
  
Liz bit her lip, trying to clear her muddled thoughts by sipping the tea Michael had handed her only moments before. She vaguely remembered asking for it though it had been a surprise he even carried any in his apartment. Isabel must have given him some just in case.  
  
She watched Michael pass by her once again to sit down across from her in a wooden stool, his shoulders held straight and his gaze firm. Though Liz found his confidence slightly appealing, she had the feeling this wasn't a mere conversation. It was an interrogation. Liz gulped the rest of her tea down and then set it precariously on the small table that was the obvious obstacle between Liz and Michael. Thank god for furniture.  
  
"We both know why I invited you over," Michael's voice filled the room, for once calm and collected. His eyes, with that predatory look, didn't stop in its fervor. Liz took a breath, trying to regain her strength and composure.  
  
She had made a mistake that morning in the break room. Well, two. She had—while under false impression—made out with Max and she had revealed something that even she hadn't begun to grapple. It was her strange and fast approaching attraction to Michael. When had it begun? Why now, of all times?  
  
She was just getting over the ramifications of her break up with Max. She was trying to lead a normal life, though with all the alien pop-ups as of recently it was as impossible as it was for her to fly around the country and assume a new identity. And with all the suffocation of a life unknown, here she was stumbling in the dark yet again.  
  
If things couldn't get worse, Liz had thought, they just did. She was a fumbling idiot around Michael—she couldn't think of anything to get her out of this mess much less form words. So she did the only thing that was possible at that point. She played dumb. "We do?"  
  
Michael shook his head, a small but ever growing smirk lighting up his face. "Don't play games with me, Parker." He leaned forward, his palms resting under his chin as he waited for her response.  
  
Liz opened her mouth and then closed it. Fury. At herself. Why couldn't she contain the situation? This was Michael, after all. Sure, he was a bad boy in a small town, but she knew his deepest and darkest secrets.  
  
He was an alien, stuck on an odd planet with few friends and a low paying job. He barely scraped by in school, yet managed to pass by a smidge. He was Maria's boyfriend—no—ex boyfriend, which made him off limits in her mind.  
  
It was Michael. So why did that make it even more of the impossible to simply forget her findings? Liz closed her eyes and then directed her anger towards her inability to cover her mistake at Michael. If he could play dirty and trap her into answering his questions and doubts, then so could she—by not giving in.  
  
"I don't play games, Michael." Liz shot out, her voice firm with assurance. Michael snorted, rising from the chair. He stood before her, his smirk still placed smugly on his face, and Liz had to look away.  
  
"Oh yes you do, Liz. This morning in the kitchen?" Michael proposed, scratching his eyebrow before beginning a thoroughly wary pace in his living room. Liz's eyes darted at his fast movements.  
  
"I was making out with Max," Liz replied, "When has that ever affected you?" His smirk, though gone as he paced, left no trace as his expression on his face took a dive. She could tell she'd hit a nerve.  
  
He turned, and Liz thought she could almost distinctly hear a growl rise from his throat as he tried to keep it hidden by keeping his mouth shut. "Normally I don't give a shit," his voice, once crisp and clean, was now angry and livid. "I was—after all—the one that let you traipse through my apartment to have a make out session with Max on my furniture."  
  
Liz opened her mouth to defend her actions but he only continued. "Just when I had you placed, Parker. Just when I thought I'd figured you out you had to mess me up again." Liz's mouth almost dropped open.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Michael sighed, quickly running his hand through his hair before dropping himself back into the stool. "I thought it was you." Michael paused as Liz gulped, and his confidence took hold once again at her deteriorating wall. "Weren't those your words?"  
  
"No." Liz whispered, looking down at her hands as they were clasped tightly in her lap. She heard Michael shuffle from his spot and when she looked up she almost gasped; his face was inches from hers. He was crouching before her, studying her demeanor. What he would find was what Liz was afraid of.  
  
"Oh, really?" he pressed, taking in her withering defiance. Liz bit her lip, trying to assess what she should do now. She'd tried to get out of the situation, hadn't she? The only thing she'd done was intact herself closer into his web. She tried to mentally kick herself, but she was finding herself lost in his intense eyes.  
  
Lips that were curved into a smirk danced across hers in a breathtakingly painful moment. She could feel his breath tickling on her pursing lips, and his eyes quirked on hers. His hands—rough but silk to her skin—touched her chin as it made the hair on her neck prickle with anticipation.  
  
Her breath was caught somewhere in her throat as she let her lids slide shut, as if trying to prolong the moment and make it progress in one movement. He was so close she felt his eyelashes brush against her eyelids. Yet his lips still were mere inches from hers, as if waiting for permission or some sort of confirmation.  
  
Though she feared what her actions might do, she yearned to feel that utmost emotion that sprang from her heart and somehow fluttered throughout her body as if it had wings. He was invoking that feeling. Liz tilted her head forward, and their lips brushed against one another.  
  
His hand, which was still parked on her chin, dropped from her face. Her eyes opened in a shudder, and his eyes were still looking into hers. She tried to read his eyes, but he seemed to overtake all thoughts and movements. His lips weren't against hers anymore, but they were close enough so she could feel every word that slipped from his lips.  
  
"Did you think it was me, Liz?"  
  
Liz finally blinked, the trance broken. She pulled away, recoiling, and grabbing her bag that lie beside her. She'd let her façade break down, and she was paying the price with his taunting. Liz brushed against his knees as she got up from the couch, and she took a quick breath as she finally managed to get past him.  
  
He got up, his gaze following as she made it to his door. She placed her hand on the doorknob, gripping it. "Liz?"  
  
Liz turned, her hand still placed on the doorknob, and she could see the question still lingering in his eyes.  
  
"No."  
  
~*~ 


	6. Chapter Five

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I obviously don't own the beautiful lyrics that I've placed in this chapter. They belong to their rightful owners—Metallica. The song is 'One.' I was thinking of a song that would play in this chapter, and this has always been a favorite of mine. Disclaimer: Some dialogue from the show has been used in this chapter.  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter Five  
  
~*~  
  
Liz woke to the low yet strangely soft sound of metal crashing against metal. She rubbed her eyes, finally finding that she was sleeping on the old couch in the backroom. She groaned, realizing she'd fallen asleep before the Crashdown had even opened. Her Dad must have called in Maria on her day off, as above the thump of the metal she could hear Maria patronizing Michael from inside the kitchen.  
  
I can't remember anything  
Can't tell if this is true or dream  
Deep down inside I feel to scream  
This terrible silence stops me  
Now that the war is through with me  
I'm waking up I can not see  
That there is not much left of me  
Nothing is real but pain now  
  
Hold my breath as I wish for death  
Oh please God, wake me  
  
Liz found herself swaying slightly to the sound. Though the words were depressing and deeply sad, the song was beautiful. She wasn't a fan of metal, but she could see why Michael had chosen the song. It was rare he ever did—as Maria had complete control of the radio in the backroom—but Liz was glad for the change of pace. She got up, yawning in the process, and walked to her locker to grab her order pad. She'd send Maria home and finish up her shift, however long that was.  
  
Liz walked towards the kitchen and saw Michael furiously working the grill as Maria animatedly talked to him at the counter. Liz smiled, trying to forget her moment with Michael the night before. She loved Maria to death, but Liz could see why Michael wanted to keep his distance from her. While she was glamorous and looking for true love, he was low maintenance and wanted someone more down to earth. She couldn't help but think that she was—in fact—more of his type.  
  
She shrugged the thought, thinking it absurd. "Maria," Liz said quietly behind Michael, and she noticed as he audibly stiffened.  
  
Liz didn't blame him. She had rejected him—given him something and then taken it back. If she were in his place, she would have been just as angry. Then why had she done it? Maria looked towards her friend, finally realizing her presence.  
  
"I'm sorry Dad had to call you in. I'm up now, so you can leave if you'd like." Maria blew a sigh of relief, as if this moment was her one of true happiness, and stuck her tongue out at Michael as he rolled his eyes.  
  
"Thank you, Chica! You are my savior." Liz smiled and turned to walk back into the backroom as her friend made her way into it. Though she'd only heard bits and pieces of the conversation, she was sure Maria was bugging Michael about what he'd wanted to see Liz about the night before.  
  
Back in the womb it's much too real  
In pumps life that I must feel  
But can't look forward to reveal  
Look to the time when I'll live  
Fed through the tube that sticks in me  
Just like a wartime novelty  
Tied to machines that make me be  
Cut this life off from me  
  
Hold my breath as I wish for death  
Oh please God, wake me  
  
"I need to ask you a question," Maria told her as she undressed to get back into her regular clothes. Liz stopped at the door, knowing this would have come sooner or later. While Michael would ignore Maria's questions, Liz couldn't. They were best friends. They told each other everything. Or at least they used to.  
  
"What's up?" Liz asked casually, turning around as her friend pulled her shirt over her head and finished dressing.  
  
"What's up is I left you a couple of messages on your machine last night and you never returned them. I just wanted to know what happened last night." Liz sighed, watching Maria look at her curiously.  
  
"Nothing happened," Liz confirmed for her friend. "He just wanted to ask me something about one of his classes." Liz almost winced. Bad lie. Maria would see right through it.  
  
Maria looked her over for another moment, and then shrugged. "I will never understand him," she laughed softly to herself and then made her way past her friend. "I'll call you later, alright?"  
  
Liz nodded her head, almost numbly, and then followed her friend out of the back room to finish the rest of her shift.  
  
Hold my breath as I wish for death  
Oh please God, wake me  
  
Now the world is gone I'm just one  
Oh God, help me hold my breath as I wish for death  
Oh please God help me  
  
~*~  
  
Later that Sunday evening, Liz leaned against the pale green table that was lined with silver. She shook her head, shaking off the sudden headache that had invaded her mind. It's ache dulled, but Liz could still feel it pulsing. She shook her head, picking up the broom again and making a final swoosh before picking up the dustpan and pocketing its contents into the trash bin. She felt a prickle on her neck, a sensation that she wasn't alone.  
  
Looking up, she saw Michael watching her critically from the door to the backroom. She sighed in relief, somehow fearing the worst. Somehow she'd forgotten that she and Michael were both closing up. While the other day she'd wished she didn't have to close up with Maria, tonight she wished it with an ever-growing ferocity. Michael made her forget herself—lose control. And that was not acceptable.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked. Liz shook her head as if in answer, and he took a step forward.  
  
"Nothing." Liz assured him, taking the broom and walking behind the counter. Michael took a place in one of the seats, as if taunting her answer, and Liz busied herself by cleaning the counter. Maybe he would just leave. Maybe she was being ever too hopeful.  
  
Liz turned, her back to him, and she prayed he'd leave. But then—as if creeping up behind her and breathing down her neck with presence—a part of her longed for him to devour her whole. It had been so long since she'd felt pleasure without worry. Had she tried to kiss Max, she was certain that would come with pain.  
  
Her attraction to Michael—while still too strange to place—was growing with every ticking second. She could feel it as her body seemed to move, but her mind didn't. Liz turned, tripping on the dustpan she'd carelessly placed on the floor. She hissed, grabbing her ankle, and Michael swiftly made his way around to help her.  
  
He helped her around the counter and into a seat at one of the tables. Liz sighed, the pain lifted from her foot. He pulled a seat up across from her, and coaxed her to lift her leg. "Let me see."  
  
Liz looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the softness held deep in his eyes. She complied; her worry long forgotten of him touching her and she actually enjoying it. Maybe this was a test. A test to show her that there was nothing between them after all—that it was all some fluke that would disappear once his fingers healed her ankle.  
  
Her ankle rested on his knee, and he carefully took her shoe off. Liz sighed once it was off, some of the pain relieved. He pushed her sock down a little, eliciting a groan from Liz, and mumbled a sorry. And then his fingertips made contact with her skin.  
  
Liz gasped, and hoped he hadn't caught on to her obvious reaction to his mere touch. He rubbed his finger over the bruise already forming, and Liz closed her eyes. She sighed as she felt warmth heat her ankle; sending electric sparks of health throughout her body. And she'd thought Max's healing was euphoric.  
  
Her lips pursed, and while her ankle was healed, she noticed his hand hadn't left it. Liz opened her eyes slowly, peaking to see what he was doing. His eyes were on her, for once soft and open. Liz wanted to study his eyes—to map them in her mind so she could find the true meaning behind them and all that they revealed—but he started speaking.  
  
"We can't do this, Liz," Michael said hoarsely with resignation. His hand left her ankle, and she pulled it down. Her desire was now taboo, and she realized that this time Michael was the one to bring them back to reality. A reality where they weren't friends and sure as hell weren't together.  
  
"I know." Liz said softly, her voice filled with sorrow. Since when had she been so utterly miserable in that she and Michael couldn't further continue their exploration of each other? She and Michael. She wanted to taste his name on her lips, but the effort to do so was too much to bear.  
  
He obviously was feeling something for her too, but it wouldn't be right. While they were single, they still had attachments to attend to and roles to play. Liz sighed, getting up from the chair as Michael did. "We can still be friends." Liz assured him. Or maybe she was assuring herself.  
  
He nodded gruffly, his eyes darting anywhere else but hers. Was this what awkward felt like? It felt more like misery. "Sure, Parker. Just don't expect me to tell you my deepest secrets or anything, alright?"  
  
And with that he filed out of the Crashdown, the bell above the door clinging on his way out. Liz felt a small smile spread across her face at the irony of his statement. "Too late."  
  
She finished closing up the Crashdown, in silence as before, and then headed up for bed.  
  
~*~  
  
Zan's eyes bore into that of Lonnie's, his sister and enemy. She was talking animatedly, her familiar eyes lost of any glitter of life or compassion. Her face was hard, emotionless in that it was without light. "Remember, Max. Lives hang in the balance. You gotta think of what you'll be puttin' them through if you refuse."  
  
He sighed, getting up and trying to play the confused good-doer part. She sat in a wooden chair, Rath at the foot of the quilt covered bed and Tess and Ava standing inches apart by the door. Isabel was in the next room, knowing there was a meeting being held but she feigned apathy and Zan couldn't blame her.  
  
Lonnie and Rath's act was tired, and if these smarts could tell, they were spitting out bullshit. Loads of it. "Max, I think you should consider what she's saying." Zan looked towards Tess quizzically, curious as to why she was so eager to go to New York when she had such a hard on for Max. Wouldn't she be at his beck and call? He shrugged off her proposition with a wave of his hand.  
  
"It's too risky. I can't go across the country without knowing what I'm getting into," Zan stopped, facing off with Lonnie as she rose slowly from the chair. If her face could look more menacing, it did. She was livid. Zan bit back the urge to smirk with a smug glint in his eye that he was sure would reside once she made her exit. And before she left Roswell, he'd finish them all off. One by one.  
  
Rath growled from where he was sitting, the perfect picture of frustration. Zan swirled his head around, staring him down until his gaze faltered with a shrug. "Your making a big mistake, ya hear?" Lonnie shot out, advancing closer to him. Zan's veins pulsed under his skin and his stance tightened as he got ready for what he was sure would be a fight that would ensue.  
  
He hand quivered as he moved to raise it, but before any action could take place he heard a loud cough from the far right of him. He turned his head, lowering his arm, to stare agape at Max Evans who was standing in the doorway of his now open bathroom. In turn, everyone else present in the room stared open mouthed. The shit had hit the fan. And Zan had no idea how it was going to go down.  
  
~*~  
  
"Hi."  
  
Though it was becoming a regular occurrence for Max to visit Liz's balcony, Liz had still found it just as surprising. He was kneeling on the other side of the window as she too kneeled inside her room. Her hand rested on the windowsill, unsure of what his intentions were this time. Liz tried to focus her eyes on the mahogany brown of the wood paneled around her window, faded from years of mis-care, but Max's eyes held much deeper thoughts. Sadness. Defeat. For once, there was no hope.  
  
"You said you wanted to be friends, and I thought about it. And," Max paused to take a breath, "I realized that I can't be friends with you because I'm still hanging on," Max paused once again, as if his words were hard to muster. "To you. To what we had. So I decided to make a clean break."  
  
Max fumbled something out of his navy blue jacket, and held it out for Liz to see. "Here." Liz looked down from her ex boyfriends face and saw a silver pocketknife with a small cursive inscribing. 'Max and Liz Forever.'  
  
Liz felt the cool of the silver as it slipped into her hand, and she found her words. "Max, this is yours. I gave it to you last Christmas." She understood the meaning behind it, but it was hard to accept. All this time she'd been rejecting Max, and now it was his turn to reject her. By getting rid of all evidence that they'd had a close relationship. Liz gulped back the urge to cry out, and watched him as he gave her one of his mournful looks.  
  
"I'm giving it back." Max replied without hesitation. "I'm—I'm going to New York with Rath, Lonnie, Zan and," Max paused once more, the next word difficult to slip from his lips. "And Tess. To the summit."  
  
Liz realized another hidden meaning by giving it back. Tess. She was joining him in New York, which meant Liz was becoming successful in her task. It made her sick to her stomach. "Are you gonna come back?"  
  
Max was surprised by her question, but answered it anyways. "I don't know. I can't think that far ahead." Liz gripped the pocketknife in her hand, rubbing her thumb over the inscription without notice.  
  
She found it weird that while she'd recently required an attraction to Michael, nonetheless brought to life by Zan, she still had a lingering love for Max. While she'd hoped all her preaches to Max would be the ending result of the end of her love for him, she knew that was held in his hands. And he was finally giving back to her what she had given up so long ago.  
  
Liz bit her lip, knowing that this moment between the two was a closure for the both. Or at least, for her, because she had no idea who Max was anymore. As Future Max had once said, 'This is a different world.'  
  
Max turned to leave, a sign that the conversation had been severed. Through all her jumbled and confusing thoughts, Liz remembered the Granolith. Liz wasn't sure what it could do; since Future Max hadn't told her much, but she knew it was important to the four aliens she'd come to know so well.  
  
The uneasy feeling still resided in her stomach, but it was more for Max's safety than anything. "Wait, um, Max, um, when—when you're at the summit, the granolith, ok?" At his confusion, she elaborated. "It's powerful and it could be really dangerous if the wrong people got their hands on it."  
  
The words spilled from her mouth like dribble from a baby's bottle, and Liz realized that while she was only trying to help it would only make Max more curious as to how she knew. On cue, "What are you talking about? How do you know anything about the granolith?"  
  
Liz steeled herself, realizing she'd made a mistake, but knew somewhere inside her it was essential she make Max believe her. For his safety. 'And Tess's,' she thought bitterly. "I can't tell you," Liz breathed out, biting back her words. "But I just—I know and—please, Max. You have to trust me."  
  
Liz watched his confusion twitch to anger and his eyes glazed over with frustration. Liz almost winced at his change of character. Trust. One thing he held with Liz always, and she'd just sliced and diced that only over a week ago.  
  
"I guess that's the problem, Liz." And with that, he got up, walking over to the edge of her balcony and making his way over by her sturdy ladder. Liz looked out her window long after he was gone.  
  
~*~ 


End file.
